


Give Me A Reason

by LiveLongEatWell



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Attempt at Humor, Damon supports his lil bro, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Dick Grayson is a Ray of Sunshine, Elena is Awesome, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Stefan Salvatore, Sassy, Self-Aware Emo, Stefan Salvatore-centric, Stefan is done with everyone's shit, Texting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:55:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27206965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiveLongEatWell/pseuds/LiveLongEatWell
Summary: Stefan steps into his Dopplegangers' life as a Paramedic - and gets transferred to Gotham because of it.His life has gone to shit, doesn't mean he'll give up.
Relationships: Elena Gilbert/Damon Salvatore, Richard Grayson/Stefan Salvatore
Comments: 3
Kudos: 20





	Give Me A Reason

It was a shit day.

All of Stefan’s days were shit, this one just happened to be spectacularly so.

“Gotham,” he repeated. More to himself than Brady. His boss, the lady who doppelgänger Tom apparently had a love affair with - to his shock and dismay when taking the identity - that ended inbombshell of a mess. Involving Internal Affairs, threats of demotion and relocating.

Last being no longer a looming threat it seemed.

“I”m - what?” He boggled. Brady didn’t look too beaten up about it. She must still be sore about him not returning her bootycalls. Stefan may be a sad excuse a vampire; hooker he is not. Dead guys got to have some standards.

And sheesh, the skeletons in Tom’s closet hurt Stefan’s nonexistent soul.

“Gotham,” she repeated. Red lips twitching in sadistic love at his silence. “You always said you wanted to see the world.”

“Oh. Yes,” he said sarcastically, “the world. Not Hell on earth.”

“It’s not that bad,” she laughed. Not fooling the century old vampire that’s faced every kind of bullshit the world had to offer - including, oh _definitely_ including his dearest psychotic brother. “The paramedics there get a lot of work and pay.”

“Not surprising,” he said, “considering that city has the highest death count.” Rivalling Mystic Falls - and they had no supernatural excuse for it. It was humanity pitted against humanity. Dark stuff.

They sat in embarrassed silence, Stefan looked at Brady. Expression perfectly conveying the downright mutiny he felt.

“You have no choice, Tom,” she has the sense to look a teensy bit sympathetic. "You have two days to get everything in order. The hospital there has a boarding house for paramedics to put you up in.”

*

“Gotham,” Damon said. Grin radiating. “Nice one, Stefan. One week into being Tom and they’re already sick of you.”

His grin became even wider when Stefan, looking up at the computer balanced on the edge of his bed, to glare. Toms’ suitcase was remaining stubbornly locked on the floor. It was one of those coded ones and not for the first time, Stefan ridiculed himself at impulsively taking the man’s identity without actually planning or bringing anything from home.

You try recovering from an almost 200 year amnesiac memory, walk in on your brother and ex getting freaky, spot Jeremy talking to his deceased girlfriend, have ptsd from that fucker Silas and make sane decisions.

Nothing was keeping him there. He wanted out.

Nobody had the moral high-ground to blame him.

“Is that Stefan?”

Glare melting at hearing Elena’s voice in the background, Stefan smiled when her head popped in front of Damon.

“Hey, how’s life as Tom?”

“Timmy’s stuck down a well,” Damon clued her in. Pressing her out of frame. Elena smacked his shoulder and Stefan ignored that ping of old jealously at watching them sink together like puzzle-pieces on the couch. “Shipped off to Gotham cause Timmy couldn’t keep his pants on.”

“Gotham?” Elena echoed earlier sentiments. “Can’t you just come home?”

Useless question. They all knew why.

“Silas is out of the picture,” she tried. “Jeremy’s got a network of ghosts tailing him, because apparently he can do that now,” she added for his confused benefit. “He’s in Italy, with a cult.”

“He made a cult?” Stefan chocked.

“Of course he made a cult,” Damon rolled his eyes. “He’s Silas, what else would a 2,000 year old immortal do in his spare time.”

  
They all nodded.

Flicking through another number set, the lock on the suitcase pinged open. That done, and with Damon and Elena mindlessly chatted, he got to packing all of Tom’s stuff. Leaving out framed photos of family and friends. One suitcase was all he needed it seemed.

“You’re really going?” Elena asked. Worrying her lip.

  
“Yeah.”

“There’s a lot of street violence, you might get found out if you’re shot. Or stabbed. Or blown up.”

“I’ll die if I get blown up,” Stefan muttered uselessly. Both Damon and Elena gave unique looks at _that_. “I’ll be fine.”

“As much as it pains me to say, you’re pretty,” Damon grimaced as he spoke. Dreadful words making _Stefan_ grimace, and Elena stare in humoured bewilderment. “And pretty guys in Gotham get stabbed in dark alleyways.” He shrugged all-knowingly.

“I’m not pretty,” Stefan defended.

Elena gave a look that made him sad.

“I’m not! And,” he continued more out of spite than anything wholesome, “I’m going,” he zipped the suitcase. Wondering distantly if he really should have done that. 

*

The boarding house was the spitting image of old Victorian, reminding him of times he rather wished he wouldn’t, and conveniently two blocks from the hospital. Across the street was the Gotham police station. No back alley stabbings for him just yet.

Before he had stopped by the hospital for the keys to the boardinghouse and his apartment. They were bronze and jangled on his walk up the steps to the front door. Wooden and stained glass. It creaked in welcoming.

A surprising winding metal staircase lead up to the first floor in the back of the hallway. Two doors on either side of it showed a kitchen and a sitting room with an old tv set with antennas. Upstairs revealed another staircase at the opposite of the hallway and five doors with room numbers. From the outside Stefan gathered there to be six flights. The key had 10 engraved on the bow.

Apartment ten was modest and had enough space for him to move about. Stefan couldn’t ask for more than that. He was here to get away and forget, not lavish around. Beside his bed was a window overlooking the police department and beyond that glowing buildings. Stefan figured he had a handful of hours before his roomies return from their shifts.

He unpacked and drew up a list of errands.

_. Cooler to store blood in_

_. Bedsheets_

Yeah, he’s an easy guy. Far too easy.

Probably why evil shits love him so much.

*

Returning from the errands, Stefan gets mugged. Dragged into an alley at gunpoint mugged. First day in Gotham, mugged.

“Keep still pretty boy,” the guy ordered at his side. Pals lifting his cooler out of his hands and snatching the bedsheets.

Stefan frowned at the name calling and wondered if he should just let this go on. Wondered what would happen if he took ‘care’ of these guys. Snapped their necks and walk away…

Nothing good. That’s what. First impressions meant a lot to Stefan, weirdly enough.

Besides, he thought positively, he was a block from the police station. Surely someone would hear if he shouted for help.

The safety of the gun clicked off and the guy told him to not be ‘funny’.

Gotham. This place was bananas.

“Hey fellas,” a voice down the alley sang. As one Stefan and the muggers turned to stare at a tall, trench coated man holding a cup of coffee. Face cheery, as though he had just walked in on a group of old friends being silly. “You’re all under arrest.”

Yep, Stefan’s face blanked. Bananas.

What proceeded had to be the stupidest attempt at a fight he’s ever bare witnessed to. There were three muggers in total, and the coffee cup guy took care of them with one hand and two legs. The guy holding Stefan dug his gun into his side. He could feel the man shaking.

Coffee cup guy met his gaze for a split second, probably to check if he was alright. Stefan just shrugged, pretty confused. He’s not used to humans threatening him. He’s used to thousand year old vampires tearing him limb from limb and exotic torture.

This was the definition of vanilla.

“You let me go and I won’t- “

“Your safety’s still on,” the coffee guy said blandly.

His mugger, the one that flicked the safety off not minutes ago as a threat, turned to his gun to check. Stefan would have laughed if - no. No he did laugh. He laughed and head butted the guy in the nose hard enough to hear it snap and bleed.

Coffee guy grabbed his arm and flung him away as he went down on the mugger. Cuffs out, knee on mugger’s back, and frisking him.

“Be a dear and click the safety on the gun, please,” the guy ordered Stefan. Nodding to the weapon used on him.

Stefan never used guns, always more of a mortal thing really, but Alaric did train him in proxy with Elena back in the past.

“Uuh. What do I…” he dithered. Holding the weapon awkwardly. Like he said. Never used one.

  
The saviour of the hour stared at him in mild amusement. Blue eyes glittering. He held one hand out and Stefan happily deposited it. The man tucked it in the back of his pants, brushing away his trench coat and reviewing a police badge along with his own standard weapon.

Minutes later after the man ‘called it in’ and two more police officers usher the muggers to the station. Stefan is escorted along with gentle force. To take a witness statement, the coffee guy explained at his nervous look.

Nervous. Hah. With his history of murder being in police stations make him queasy. He hopes they don’t take his fingerprints. Who knows what will come up.

Again, he reminds himself it hasn’t been 24 hours yet.

The desk of coffee guy shows the name plate ‘Det. Richard Greyson’.

“You’re not from Gotham are you?” Richard guessed. Grinning.

“Let me guess,” Stefan stated with drying tones of sarcasm, “I look like Bambi.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say Bambi,” Richard teased, twirling a pen between fingers, “more like the coyote in road runner when he’s about to drop out of the sky.”

Stefan snorted. “I was recently transferred from Atlanta. I’m renting out one of the apartments in the boarding house across the street.”

“Pretty far out of the way. How recent?”

“Today.”

“Ouch,” Richard winced. Smile remaining and Stefan was pleased someone could see the sardonic humour in it. “Good thing you’re a paramedic. If it got messy back there I know I’d be in capable hands.”

“Hah,” Stefan tried to smile. As decent as he was in taking Tom’s life, his job was lagging anxiouslyalong. In all his century and a bit of years on earth, Stefan did pick up a fairly decent medical knowledge of the body (time spent as a ripper was truly eye-opening). Nobody’s died on him yet as a paramedic. So. He must be doing something right.

Having it said to his face however made Stefan recall just how dated his knowledge was. Just how easily someone could point out his mistakes.

Studying. He’ll have to get on that.

They got through the statement and Stefan is reunited with his cooler and bedsheets, wallet and phone.

Tom’s phone is handed, then his own.

“Habit,” he says as a sorry excuse to Richard’s raised eyebrow.

“Not one to judge,” the man shrugged and Stefan is handed a business card before he left. “My personal mobile number’s on the back,” is said with a wink of all things.

In his bedroom, cooler packed with ice, bedsheets re-dressed. Stefan lay in his bed and flipped over the business card. Blinking at the scrawled mobile number and smiley-face.

…Stefan added him to his contacts list.

Shoot him, the guy was cute.

*

[ _Hey this is Stefan_ ]

[ _Hey!!!_

_:D_

_Didn’t expect to hear from you so soon]_

_[Colleagues aren’t back from work yet and I’m bored. The fun of almost getting shot has warn off]_

_[Haha_

_No unpacking to do?]_

_[Nup_

_Didn’t have much to pack]_

_[So I’m a distraction]_

_[A good one (:]_

_[Coffee?]_

_[Mooching my colleagues only source of energy is a hostile action]_

_[I’m asking if you’d like to get coffee with me Tom]_

_[I like coffee]_

“I like coffee?” Stefan muttered to himself in horror. A century and a half old doesn’t account for grace, it would seem.

*

Richard - “call me Dick” another wink - took him to a cafe. The baristas there greeted him with smiles and waves. As did some customers.

  
“What’s going to happen to the guys with the guns?” Stefan asked, taking a seat opposite Dick after ordering.

“Probably spent some time in jail. You holding up well?” Genuine concern flicked in his face, and Stefan felt a bit bad deceiving the young man.

“Well you know, these things happen,” he said lamely.

Funnily enough, the guy looked to be fighting back a smirk. “Play damsel in distress often, I take?”

  
Stefan hesitated, disastrous flashbacks flicking behind his eyeballs, “Not _that_ often.”

“Hold on,” Dick didn’t fight the smirk. “What?”

“There have been cases,” he admitted. Bitter.

“What cases?” Dick suspiciously asked.

“When I was a teenager I fell in love with the wrong person. Let’s say that person was a homicidal maniac. That homicidal maniac tried to kill me. I broke up with her. She tried to kill me. Again” he shrugged.

Remarkably, Dick didn’t blink. “I don’t think that happens as often as you think it does.”

Stefan looked speculatively at Dick’s raised eyebrows, and half-shrugged.

“That hesitation is concerning.”

*

Their coffees arrived, and Dick asked mid-sip, “What happened to your girlfriend after?”

“She died.”

Dick stopped drinking, looking like he didn’t know whether to say sorry or not. Or ask how.

He went with a sly look. Full of charm. “Hopefully your taste in partners improved.”

Stefan thought of Elena. “ _Eh._ ”

*

“How’d you become a detective?” Stefan asked later on their second cup. Sun had streaked down and he was wondering if Dick had some work to still do, but the man remained with him. He didn’t risk asking incase he chose to leave.

It was refreshing, talking to someone who didn’t know.

“Sort of fell into it. A natural occurrence of events.”

*

Hours pass and they end up getting kicked out of the cafe. Dick insists on walking him back. How could Stefan say no?

A small group meet them at the door.

“Transfer?” One asked while another opened the door. A blonde girl.

“Yeah, I’m Tom,” he reached out for a handshake but everyone was already hurdling inside. Grunted hellos and snickers. His hand hung out, and Stefan got the distinct impression they knew _why_ he was transferred.

Fucking Tom and his dick.

“They seem friendly,” the human Dick said. Smile not of humour. “Call me if you get any troubles.”

“I don’t think they’re vicious.”

  
“Just in case,” he insisted. “Not everyone in Gotham is nice.”

“You’re really selling this place to me,” said Stefan. Nodding up at the shithole that will be home from now on.

  
“Honesty’s the best policy,” Dick jutted his elbow against his and jerked a thumb to the precinct. “I’ll be getting back to work. Keep your nose clean until I see you next.”

“Searching for a reason to put me in handcuffs, Dick?”

He laughed at Dick’s promising wink.

*


End file.
